


Christmas Cheer

by SparklingDragonTears



Series: Merry Misery [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Christmas, Dead Allison Argent, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Slash, Shy Derek Hale, background Scott/Kira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklingDragonTears/pseuds/SparklingDragonTears
Summary: “Hey there, Sourwolf.” Stiles spoke softly, eyes shining with mischief. “Thought you and Uncle Growly could use some Christmas cheer.”Derek could smell the wolfsbane through the tiny cork stopper.--Derek and Peter drink and talk about maybe changing their miserable holiday tradition of sitting alone together with pizza and alcohol and misery.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Merry Misery [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567942
Comments: 1
Kudos: 183





	Christmas Cheer

**Author's Note:**

> Set slightly before Merry Christmas.  
> A little less angsty.  
> After so many years alone together, they are mostly amicable.  
> The teenagers are approx. 19, one year out of high school.

The entire month was a push-pull purgatory for Derek. Growing up, the holidays were his favorite time of the year. He loved the way his entire family was together. He loved the food, the music, the decorating, all of the chaos. Now, after the fire, even the thought of Christmas brought painful memories surging through him, threatening to knock him to his knees each time he remembered he was alone.

It was the holiday break and the teenagers had come back to town from their first year away. Scott and Kira were back from UCLA on break, Lydia had spent the year traveling, but had returned for the holiday as promised, and even Stiles had come back from Washington D.C., unable to stand being across the country over Christmas. The pack had reconvened, current high-schoolers aside, in the loft as though they were 16 again. 

The red and green lights they’d filled the space with blinded Derek every time he stepped into his living room, but he couldn’t bear to stop the teenagers, in fear they would really leave. He couldn’t stand to be by himself, terrified the lost feelings might actually drown him.

Derek could smell it in the air every time his uncle stepped into the room, the same agony that wrenched through him. He couldn’t meet Peter’s eyes most days. 

They were only a week from Christmas, everyone throwing the final decorations over the last of the empty space in the living room, when Stiles’ hand closed around his wrist. He dragged him into the kitchen away from the music and decorating for just a moment with the two of them. Derek tried to ignore how his heart skipped a beat when their skin touched. 

“Hey there, Sourwolf.” He spoke softly, eyes shining with mischief. “Thought you and Uncle Growly could use some Christmas cheer.”

Stiles pulled a palm-sized vial from his pocket, filled with a finely powdered purple flower. Derek could smell the wolfsbane through the tiny cork stopper. He took Derek’s hand without warning and closed it around the glass.

“I did my research, it’s a weak strain.” He nodded toward the cabinet holding the wolf’s liquor stash. He squeezed Derek’s hand before dropping it. He gave him a wink that made Derek’s stomach flutter before leaving Derek alone in the kitchen.

Peter came to the doorway not long after, finding his nephew standing at the counter, an open fifth of expensive whiskey in one hand, powder in the other. He watched from the doorway as Derek added a few pinches into the bottle. He closed it and shook it all together. He opened it and took a healthy gulp. Not bothering to look up, he held it out for Peter, who took it all too willingly.

“Where’s Argent?” Derek asked, finally looking up to his uncle. He had something guarded in his eyes, a resentment, a hope, a worry, a pain. Peter couldn’t quite tell, but he was willing to bet it was a mix of all of the above.

Peter sighed into the bottle. He leaned back against the counter and stared into the floor.

“Should be here.” He answered with a shrug. He glanced at the clock, finding it to be almost 7:30. “By now, I’d venture to guess halfway through his own bottle in his living room.” 

Derek heard the concern Peter was trying to hide. For being the only consistent adults in the group, the trio were pretty piss-poor examples for the rest of the pack. They never mentioned the bitter despair they scented on Chris any time he came around. They may all be in the same boat, but at least Derek and Peter had each other in some fucked up, runaround way. No one could blame Chris for drowning himself in bourbon and disappearing into the night.

Derek watched Peter take another swig and took the bottle before it was handed back. Peter waited until Derek was another two swallows down before turning toward the doorway and breaking their silence.

“Did you hear them?” He nodded toward the teenagers in the living room. 

Derek tipped his head to the side, listening, but only catching the end of the conversation he’d blocked out over the music. Something about Christmas food being too high in cholesterol for the Sheriff. Peter reached out for the bottle again, wiggling his fingers impatiently until Derek handed it over. He was starting to feel a pleasant warmth filling his chest. Chasing it with another shot worth, he answered the irritated questioning look from his nephew.

“Stiles and McCall are arguing over whether you would actually come to dinner if Stiles manned up and asked you.” He said with a smirk.

Derek felt his face heating. He watched the doorway like he could see the teens through the bricks. When he didn’t answer, Peter prompted him gently.

“Would you?” Peter left the question hanging, neither really sure if there was an answer. Derek took the proffered bottle and took one more drink before leaving it on the counter and walking back to hover in the corners of the living room. He heard Peter chuckle behind him as he left.

Stiles looked up when Derek entered the room. Derek couldn’t help but return a small smile at the earnest, bright grin thrown his way. Peter nudged his shoulder as he walked by, taking his place on the staircase, drink in hand. 

Derek looked around his loft to see newly strung, glittering garlands wrapped around most of the furniture. He was learning quickly to never doubt the power of a team of enthusiastic teenagers. While he had taken a five minute break getting buzzed in the kitchen, his living room had been transformed into a sparkling showroom. He noticed Lydia sitting on the couch with a pleased grin and Scott watching with puppy dog eyes as Kira stood on tiptoe to hand mistletoe in the doorway to the back hallway. He leaned on the wall, not about to ruin their glow by reminding them that mistletoe was poisonous to them. He figured they were smart enough to leave it where it hang.

Stiles strolled, none-too casually, up into Derek’s space. He leaned on the wall beside him, watching the others. Derek let Stiles elbow him gently, giving into the urge to huff a laugh. Stiles was shining bright as ever, Christmas lights somehow making him seem to float as he moved. 

Derek shook his head to himself, wondering if he’d had too much wolfsbane.

“So…” Stiles drawled out, failing at any sort of subtlety. Derek raised an eyebrow, turning his attention to the teen. Stiles rubbed a hand through his hair, eyes darting around nervously. “My dad still can’t cook to save his life, and I only know how to make giant sized meals, so I thought maybe you would want some home-cooked food for the holiday. It doesn’t have to be anything special, if you don’t want-“ 

Derek stopped Stiles’ rambling by grabbing his hand lightly. Stiles’ eyes went wide for a second, before he relaxed and squeezed the wolf’s fingers. Derek ducked his head, knowing every wolf in the room would be able to scent the pleased, warm feeling flooding through him. Stiles seemed to notice his embarrassment. With a soft smile, he squeezed Derek’s hand again and let it go, casually crossing his arms over his chest. He did, however, inch closer to Derek, resting their shoulders together as Derek shoved his hands in his pockets.

Derek glanced through his eyelashes to see Lydia trying to hide her smile by looking at her phone. He caught Scott and Kira sharing a grin over the box of decorations in the middle of the floor before continuing to dig through it. Peter only rolled his eyes and took another drink.

That night, after the teenagers left, Peter had collapsed on the couch. Derek shoved his feet aside to sit on the opposite end. Both had been lulled into a drunken alcohol haze. Derek laid his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. He hadn’t felt the world spin like this since he was a teenager himself, just learning how to spike his drinks. 

“You should go, you know.” Peter commented, drawl far less pronounced than usual as he relaxed into the furniture.

“Go where?” He didn’t bother opening his eyes. Peter kicked Derek’s leg lightly.

“You’re too smart to play dumb.” Peter answered. Derek sighed in reply.

“What about you?” He asked in a small voice, worried what his uncle might do if left alone on Christmas. 

“I’ve been thinking about our Hunter,” Peter said after a moment. “I think it’s about time we all switch up our annual pity party.”

Derek finally opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at his uncle. Peter’s cheeks were tinted a little pink, but Derek didn’t comment on it.

“Are you sure?” He asked instead. “I don’t even know if I want to try to spend a holiday doing family things.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. He heard the lie in Derek’s heart, although Derek looked completely honest.

“I don’t know if…” Derek continued, but trailed off, turning away again. Peter waited him out until he took a breath and spoke again, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do it without you.” 

His heart hammered steady, no lie this time, even what might have been an unknown one. Peter hummed in reply, watching Derek’s chest rise and fall with deep, steady breaths.

“I think…” Peter waited a beat for Derek to look at him. “That we both need a change. I think that Christopher may not survive another holiday on his own…”

Derek heard his heart skip a beat, not with a lie, but with his uncle’s long buried affection for the man. Derek didn’t know whether Peter knew he’d remembered the pair from his childhood, but he had always seen the softness in Peter’s eyes when he’d looked at Argent. Peter continued when Derek said nothing.

“And… I think now that the Stilinski boy has finally gathered his courage, it’s only polite to accept his invitation.” Peter smirked to his nephew. “It’s about damn time after all.”

Derek threw a light punch against Peter’s knee. Peter laughed, but let it go.

They were quiet for a few minutes before Derek took a shaking breath.

“You’re really okay with it?” He asked softly. Peter sighed. They both knew that the holidays were hard for most of their broken little pack. Doing it without the only family they had would be a test for them, but the past six years they’d been sitting alone together with nothing but pizza and alcohol and their misery. They knew it had to end at some point.

“Maybe bring that mistletoe with you,” Peter finally answered teasingly. “That boy is a romantic if I ever saw one.”

Derek blushed, but couldn’t help a genuine smile. He nodded, not sure which statement he was agreeing with. He pulled out his phone, opening it to the most recent text between him and Stiles. 

_This time of year is pretty hard. Maybe I could use a real holiday_

Even though it was well past midnight, a reply came through within the minute.

_Totally. Doesnt even have 2 b Xmas. We’ll have Festivus dinner. Or Kwanzaa. Or New Years week._

Derek grinned, ignoring Peter’s amused smirk across the couch.

_Thanks_

If Stiles sent him a heart in reply, Derek didn’t think too hard about it, not quite ready for his uncle to scent what his reaction might have been.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to everyone. Happy Holidays.  
> Till next time,  
> -J X


End file.
